Getting My Bionic On

...and by bionic, I mean that I not only will have some metal in my arm, but a wee bit ‘o my ass as well. Okay, probably more likely my hip, but it sounds much cooler and freakier to say that my arm will be part-wrist, part-ass (yet, all woman) than the alternative. I wonder if my arm will get a bit more wiggly when Shakira pops up on iTunes?

I learned today that a “bone graft,” the medical term for making my arm part-wrist, part-ass, is a procedure that not only helps to fuse a fractured bone, but aides in stimulating healthy bone growth. In fact, one medical website with more of a sense of humor than most referred to a bone graft as “fertilizer” that would help speed up the process of bone regeneration and growth. Pelvic fertilizer. Awesome.

The technical name for my lame-ass healing process is called “malunion.” Though it sounds like something one of those stupid “O.C.” kids would say about a particularly unwholesome hookup, it actually means that my dumbass bone healed, but incorrectly. Bad bone. Bad. Causes of malunion include the original doctor screwing up the setting of the bone (not likely...bone looked set well and good after the good ‘ol tug and lift); the second doctor not casting the fracture properly (a possibility, my second doctor was kind of a spend-five-minutes-a-patient ass), soft tissue contracture (I think that means the surrounding tissue pulled at Ms. Weak Bone); and gradual collapse of the fracture due to a splintered fracture (also a possibility - my bone was a wee bit splintered on initial x-ray). Damnit...there are entirely too many intervening causes for me to sue any of my doctors. I hate it when that happens.

The good news is that my third doctor seems to know what the hell he’s doing - he’s a wrist specialist and his “take a little hip here, take a little wrist there” approach is backed up by some websites and articles I read today. Always good to know that your surgeon is not just a cut-happy gent looking to bump up his billables to my insurance company. (Gee...I wonder if my job has jaded me?)

I’m debating the relative merits of committing this fiasco to digital film. And by debating, I mean that I’m weighing my amusement value versus the desire of my friends’ stomachs for medical irregularities. Unfortunately, I missed the best picture - the wrist immediately after fracture. There is no better Kodak moment than an S-shaped wrist. Bugger.

Here’s the my last week of tying my own shoelaces and showering without a plastic baggie and a rubber band! Life is sweet.